Yrael, the Eighth Bright Shiner (
mogget_cat) wrote in
milliways_bar2015-08-17 09:18 am
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There is a finely-dressed pale figure at the piano, this evening, playing something that seems almost humanly impossible. Deft fingers, ever-moving, flash across and along the keys.
Some evenings just call for diabolical accompaniment.
Some evenings just call for diabolical accompaniment.

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Fry is watching entranced.
"What grade are you on?" he asks, when Yrael finishes.
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"Grade? I'm not sure that I know."
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"Well done," Yrael says, when the piece is finished. "Do you have a favorite out of what you have learned so far?"
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But the music is stirring and beautiful. Sinric stops to listen, caught mid-gesture by the sound.
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He ducks his head, blushing as he realises he's been caught staring.
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The piece eventually ends. The last notes linger on the edge of hearing, followed by a ringing silence. An empty space left in the noise of the bar room.
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"There is no crime in taking a moment to enjoy something," he says to the blushing youth, as though confiding a great secret.
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He looks up a little, with pretty dark brown eyes. "It was very beautiful."
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"I'm glad you thought it so. Some would not agree; but then, it is not meant to be a comfortable piece of music."
Beautiful and challenging, like a great jagged escarpment of mountainside, or the whirling grace of a destructive tornado.
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"Very wise," he murmurs. "The more sublime beauty is to be found in what is unquantifiable, in what is hard to comprehend, to hold onto, to know fully."
There is something lost, in taming what should be wild.
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He is the very opposite of what is being described - a tamed thing, born and raised in a golden cage but longing to be wild and free.
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"A title I lay no claim to," the albino young man chuckles. "A musician, yes, for music has ever been part of me, but I am no poet. I merely... know what I like best."
"Do you play music, yourself?"
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"A little." He confesses softly. "I play flute, dutar and drum but mostly I sing for my Lord's pleasure."
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That distinction rests with Dyrim. Or would, if he still had a consciousness of his own.
Yrael tilts his head in curiosity. "May I hear you sing, sometime? Or play, whichever you wish? It needn't be now - you are about a task already, and I would not delay you."
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He looks at Yrael with a sweetly hopeful smile. "But I woukd be very glad to sing or play for you, some other time if it is convinced to you."
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"I wish your friend a speedy recovery," Yrael inclines his head slightly to the youth, meeting and keeping his gaze for a moment. "We shall meet again, at a time better suited for distraction."
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Sinric takes his basket and bows deeply, sensing that this man is high above him in status. "I would be honoured, sir. Milliways has been most kind to me in it's sanctuary and the fellowship I have found here. I would be glad to repay that with my poor gift of song."
He turns to go and pauses, "Sir, I am called Sinric, should you wish to seek me."
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"It was good to meet you, Sinric, and I look forward to seeing you again. Should you wish to find me, the name I am known by is Yrael."
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{ooc: thank you, that was adorable!}
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